


Memories

by nooortje



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nooortje/pseuds/nooortje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Walking on the beach you can feel the warm sand between your toes, and you see the sun hanging above the sea like a big, red balloon."</p><p>A short original piece i wrote ages ago. Let me know what you think!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

Walking on the beach you can feel the warm sand between your toes, and you see the sun hanging above the sea like a big, red balloon. The cove is completely surrounded by high, steep cliffs, except for the small path you came from, and the side where the sand and the sea meet.

Gently the waves climbing up the shore get smaller and smaller until they completely disappear. The sand is white and even, there is nothing to remember you of the ones who came here before you. The sea is the most startling blue and clear, if you look carefully you can even see little fish and other sea creatures going about their business.

The high cliffs are brown-red with only a few small ledges. If you're lucky you can find beautiful, eccentric shells in a variety of different colours on the shore. Everything is silent, except for the murmur of the sea. The little path that led you to this fairytale place is narrow. Invisible, if you hadn't know it's there.

To your left there is a picturesque little church high on top of the cliff. Next to it grow three olive trees. The church is white, the roof in the same brown-red as the cliffs. The window facing your little haven is made of stained glass, and shows a picture of Maria holding baby Jesus. On top of the roof you see a modest cross just above the wooden doors. In front of the chapel you spot a couple of boys playing football, while their mothers and aunts sit on a wooden bench against the wall of the church, chatting. One of the men of the nearby village is repainting the old church walls where the paint has chipped off.

All of a sudden you hear voices shouting, and the flapping of sails in the wind. A moment later a large, elegant yacht comes sailing around the cliff. The boat is wooden, the sails were probably white once, but now have a cheesecake yellow taint. On the stern you notice a British flag fluttering in the wind.

Most of the passengers are men, but there are also a few of women sitting in the sun and enjoying a glass of wine. The man behind the big helm is about seventy-five years old and wears a typical sailor shirt. Blue and white stripes. He is even wearing one of those captain hats you usually only see in old movies. He has a thick grey moustache and a lit pipe in his mouth. One of the men waves at you from the front deck.

Behind the ship you can see the sun almost touching the sea, and you sit down in the warm sand. It is completely silent again, apart from the muttering of the sea and the wind that's blowing air in the sails of the yacht and through the leaves of the olive trees high up the cliffs. Slowly you see the sun disappearing in the water, leaving you with the memories of another beautiful day.


End file.
